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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074932">When the Evening Falls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casandravus/pseuds/Casandravus'>Casandravus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Violence, Off-Screen Attempted Suicide, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Ideation, no betas we die like men, read the tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 01:13:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casandravus/pseuds/Casandravus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A glorious sunset gave way to a night darkened by near-death tragedy. Up to now, Donald Duck had faced his personal crises mostly alone, carrying the weight of three boys and ten years of estrangement on the wide, wide sea. </p><p>Now that the bough has broken, it's up to Clan McDuck to carry that weight and help him want to see the sun rise again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Della Duck &amp; Donald Duck, Della Duck &amp; Scrooge McDuck, Dewey Duck &amp; Huey Duck &amp; Louie Duck &amp; Lena &amp; Webby Vanderquack, Donald Duck &amp; Scrooge McDuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>100</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Finding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tears_Scars_and_Heartstrings/gifts">Tears_Scars_and_Heartstrings</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is VERY heavily based on my own experience with surviving suicide attempts. While there is no on-screen suicide, there is one non-graphic suicide attempt and a LOT of suicidal ideation. PLEASE READ TAGS AND TAKE THEM SERIOUSLY.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A beautiful array of yellow, pink, red, and purple drew Scrooge’s eye from his paperwork to his office window - and to the pool in which Donald’s houseboat floated. The result of ten years of grief-stricken anger and another year of unfortunate mishaps, the boat symbolized the last aching gap between him and his beloved nephew. He really should sit down with Donald and have a proper conversation; there really was no reason for his dawdling.<br/><br/>(Except… Donald was still working, or applying for work, full-time.)<br/>(Except… His own workload was increasing, especially as he dared to take more adventures. The board wasn’t very happy with him about that.)<br/>(Except… The kids needed them, and with so many people in the mansion there was never any <em> privacy </em> .)<br/>(Except…)<br/>(Except…)<br/>(Except…)<br/>(Excuses. That’s all they were, and he knew it. He wondered if Donald knew it too.)<br/><br/>The houseboat rocked in an unusual way, shaking the old man out of his thoughts. What in Dismal Downs was happening out there? Donald had never been a party-goer to begin with, and as protective as he was over the children, he wouldn’t dare bring hooligans into the mansion. Maybe some heavy furniture had moved? No, that couldn’t be right.<br/><br/>That didn’t explain every light being turned off at 7:45 p.m.<br/><br/>That didn’t explain the dread pooling in Scrooge’s stomach.<br/><br/>By the time he got to the houseboat, an uneasy stillness had come over the place. There was no music, and the windows were closed. Scrooge slammed the door open and flipped the living room lights on… No response. At all.<br/><br/>A kidnapping?<br/><br/>Scrooge stormed through the kitchen, searching for <em> anything </em> that would explain what was going on. Nothing. He swallowed hard, and continued toward the back of the boat. He tried to call for Donald, but his voice wouldn’t work. The ‘bravest duck in the world’ was panicked because things were too quiet. His nephew wasn’t one for silence.<br/><br/>He opened Donald’s bedroom door.<br/><br/>He turned the light on.<br/><br/><em> No. </em> <em><br/></em> <span class="u"> <em> No. </em> </span> <em><br/></em> <b> <em>NO!</em> </b></p><p>Scrooge McDuck screamed - fear tore his throat as he cradled his nephew, searching for a heartbeat.<br/><br/>The only other sound from the houseboat that night?<br/><br/>Pills pitter-pattering against the wooden floor.</p><hr/><p>
  <em><br/>"...Don't say something crazy like that, Louie!" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Boys, stop - all of you stop. Uncle Donald's still asleep." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Shouldn't he be waking up soon? The Junior Woodchuck Guide says..." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "It was a lapse in judgment for me to bring you here; come along, children." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "But what if he wakes up? He'll want to see us, right?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Bentina's right - it's late, and you four are exhausted. Please don't fight us right now." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "We love you, Uncle Donald." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ... </em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was something like a kiss pressed against his cheek.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> ... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Donald, Donald, Donald. Donald!" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Donald!" </em>
</p><p><em> "</em> <b> <em>Donald</em> </b> <em>!"  </em></p><p>The sailor sat up, gasping for air. There was an uneasy sleepiness behind his eyes, and a monotonous beeping in his ears. He looked around, startled - how had he ended up in the hospital, of all places? Why did his head hurt, and why was he so - !? He grabbed the closest trashcan and puked. From a seemingly far-off distance, he felt a hand rubbing his back. Someone was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't hear over the sound of his own sickness. Eventually, his stomach felt less turbulent and he leaned back against the pillows.<br/><br/>“You’ll be alright, lad. I’ve got you.” Scrooge’s expression was <em> so tender</em>, it made Donald tear up.<br/><br/>“I feel like <em> crap</em>.”<br/><br/>Scrooge gave a shallow, humorless laugh. “I’m not surprised. What do you remember?”<br/><br/>Donald’s brow furrowed in concentration. What <em> was </em> the last thing he remembered? He’d been on the houseboat, doing something, then he’d just wanted to -<br/><br/>He'd wanted to - <em><strong>o</strong></em><b><em>h no</em></b>.<br/><br/>He puked again, shame bubbling in his chest. “Who...?”<br/><br/>“<em>Me</em>,” Scrooge’s voice broke. “Duckworth got Launchpad, and he drove us here - fastest he’s ever driven in his life. He went back for Bentina and the boys after I rushed the emergency department and you were admitted. Hell hath no fury like Scrooge McDuck trying to save your life.”</p><p>Donald pulled back, curling into himself. “I’m sorry, Uncle Scrooge.” </p><p>The weight of questions laid like syrup in his throat. Instead of asking, he sighed. “I’m just glad you’re alive, lad.” </p><p>“Really?” Donald's voice was soft, and utterly sad. </p><p>Scrooge’s heart dropped to his feet. “You could’ve told me you needed a psychiatrist again, Donald. The kids wouldn’t have needed to know; I would’ve paid.”</p><p>“That’s just it!” Donald yelled. “I didn’t want you to be embarrassed of having a mentally ill nephew! I’ve been nothing but <em>trouble</em> for you all these years!” </p><p><em> Family’s nothing but trouble, </em>Scrooge had said. He hadn’t realized Donald took it so personally. “Don - ”</p><p>“No! You know it’s the truth, Uncle Scrooge! I’ve done nothing but cause trouble for you since the day Mama and Papa died!” Donald slammed his fist onto the bed. “I was nothing but a burden then, and I’m still a burden now! I’m living in a <b>houseboat</b> in your <b>pool</b>, for crying out loud! And barely making enough to cover the boys’ expenses, let alone the utilities I use!”<br/><br/>Scrooge bowed his head, holding his hat between his hands. He’d talked his nephew through countless depressive episodes before, but this was <strong> <em>different</em></strong>. He hadn’t been attentive enough; he hadn’t seen the signs of a major spiral coming, despite the fact that he’d <em> looked </em> for it. So much for being sharper than the sharpies. A sob wracked his body -<br/><br/>Donald gasped -<br/><br/>and it took him a few moments to look up and find his voice. “Do ye really think… That’s all I saw you as? A burden?” Tears fell from his eyes. “Is that really what ye think? After all this time?”<br/><br/>Was that <em> hurt </em> in the old man’s voice? <em> Guilt </em> ? Whatever it was, it scared Donald, and anger burned his eyes. “Well <em> obviously </em> that’s how I feel! Ever since I brought the boys back to the mansion the <em> first </em> time, you’ve made comments about the utility bills, or the idiocy of moving a houseboat into a pool! And cutting me out of the will - I mean, I didn’t realize I was even <em> in </em> the will because I left!”</p><p>To his credit, Scrooge flinched. “That was a really horrible, thoughtless comment. I’m sorry.”<br/><br/>Donald blinked. When was the last time Scrooge had apologized to him? When was the last time Scrooge really saw him? Halloween? No, that wasn’t it; Scrooge had been doing his own thing for most of the night, and they hadn’t talked when handing out the candy. Was it when they went to Mervana? The Genie Incident? He put his head between his hands and tried to breathe.<br/><br/>A few moments passed before someone knocked on the hospital room door, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. “Hello, Donald,” an oriole poked her head in. “I’m Dr. Tan, and I’ll be your primary doctor while you’re here. Evening, Mr. McDuck.”<br/><br/>“Evening, Dr. Tan,” Scrooge nodded.<br/><br/>Donald opened his beak, but... Of all the rotten luck, he’d gone <em> mute</em>! This hadn’t happened to him in years! Why now?<br/><br/>Dr. Tan handed him a notebook and a pen. “Mr. McDuck gave us a brief summary of your experience with mental illness and selective mutism, and...”<br/><br/>The sailor turned to his uncle, face reddening.<br/><br/>“He didn’t go into detail,” she intervened, sitting between the two of them before things could escalate. “He just mentioned that you had a history of both. No diagnoses or specific incidents aside from this one. We asked for that information so we’d know how to make things accessible for you.”<br/><br/>“<em>Oh,</em>” Donald mouthed, still unable to speak. He didn’t know if his uncle could still read his beak movement when this happened, but it was worth a shot. “<em>T</em><em>hanks, Uncle Scrooge.</em>”<br/><br/>Scrooge patted his hand. “You’re welcome, Donald. I - ” his phone buzzed, so he took it out and read the message on the screen. “Will you be alright if I head back to the mansion? It’s - "<br/><br/>“<em>T</em><em>he kids</em>? <em> Are they okay </em>?” Donald hated that his voice just wouldn’t work, even for his beloved children.<br/><br/>“They’re worried. I only told them that I found you unresponsive on the boat; they don’t know anything else, and I don’t think it’s wise to tell them. Huey’s just asking if I’ll be back in time for lunch - “<br/><br/>“<em>Lunch!? How long have I been out!? </em> ” He also wrote the question down.<br/><br/>“About sixteen hours,” Dr. Tan said. “That’s basically normal for fighting off overdoses; stomach pumps have been considered bad practice for years.”<br/><br/>“ - And if I have an update on how you’re doing.”<br/><br/>Donald smiled, although it was small and sad. <em>"G</em><em>o back to the mansion. I’ll be fine."</em><br/><br/>“Are you sure?”<br/><br/>He nodded.<br/><br/>Mindful of the medical equipment and wires, Scrooge pulled Donald to him. “<em>Tha gaol agam ort, mo mhuir </em> ,” he whispered. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Would I be allowed to bring our nephews and niece?”<br/><br/>Dr. Tan thought about it for a moment. “As long as they can keep their voices down and keep conversational topics normal, I don’t see why not. You’ll need to get them visitor passes in the lobby.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Scrooge bowed his head in gratitude. “We’ll be by later then, Donald. Take care.”<br/><br/>Scrooge grabbed his hat, his cane, and some tissues before closing the door behind him. Donald stared at the door for a few moments, tears shining in his own eyes.</p><p>Uncle Scrooge’s kindness didn’t fit the story inside his head at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Evaluations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Donald's second day at the hospital is actually... Pretty nice. A strange change of pace from two nights ago. </p><p>Della finds out that some questions are better left unasked if you're not ready for the answers. </p><p>Scrooge is just trying to hold the family together; he's not sure he's doing a good job. He's comforted in his grief, in unexpected ways.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some of the hospital rules/policies are based on mental health housing in certain European countries, plus what I wish I'd experienced during my own psychiatric admission. Same general principle applies to the medication class Dr. Tan suggests for Donald - it's based on my personal experience and what's worked for me, or what I wish had been found when I was in the worst parts of my mental health struggles.</p><p>Also: this fic is non-canon-compliant after The Trickening. I may use some things that take place after for plot and character purposes, but it'll be a different context and/or divergent series of events if I do.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Launchpad didn’t know much about Scrooge and Donald’s relationship, but he knew plenty about grief. He cleared his throat, adjusting the rear view mirror so he could see his employer. “This has got to be really hard on you, Mister McDee. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Scrooge nodded at the mirror, wiping his eyes with another tissue. “Thank you, Launchpad. I appreciate that.”</p><p>“I’m, uh, here to help however I can. Rides, picking up food, anything you might need to do with the houseboat - ”</p><p>“The houseboat!” Scrooge cursed under his breath. “It’s now officially a God-forsaken death trap, but I’m worried that moving it without Donald’s permission will traumatize him further. And make him hate me.”</p><p>“Maybe ask the doctor what she thinks? She seemed really helpful,” Launchpad said as he pulled into the mansion. “What are you gonna tell the kids?” </p><p>Scrooge sighed. “I’m not sure what I’ll say exactly, but we <em>cannae</em> tell them Donald attempted suicide.”<br/><br/>“That’s too much for kids. Especially as much as those four have been through.”<br/><br/>The mansion hadn’t loomed so dark before him since the day Della took the spear. Scrooge took a breath to steady his nerves. <em>Be calm for the kids. Be strong for the kids. We’re each other’s inner strength.</em> With Donald away, he had to summon a quiet courage he hadn’t had since Hortense and Quackmore’s deaths. Just like when he’d raised the twins, the heartbreak hid beneath the need to protect. <br/><br/>Launchpad squeezed his shoulder. Scrooge smiled up at him, although it didn’t reach his eyes. <br/><br/>“Welcome back, Uncle Scrooge, Launchpad,” Huey said as they walked into the kitchen. “I made lunch. I mean, I don’t know, you might not be hungry, but Dewey, Louie, and Webby were, so…”<br/><br/>“Bentina let you take over the kitchen?”<br/><br/>His laugh wasn’t quite normal. “She watched from a distance. I cooked almost every meal we had in the houseboat and never burned the food. She was surprised more than anything else.”<br/><br/>Scrooge’s heart skipped a beat at the casual mention of their life <em>before</em> Donald had brought them back. <em>Before</em>… <em>Before…</em> <br/><br/>“Uncle Scrooge?” Louie’s voice was soft. Timid. “How’s Da - Uncle Donald?” his feathers tinged pink. <br/><br/>The old man blinked at the near-slip but otherwise ignored it. “I’ll tell you everything after we have lunch. I need to eat and collect my thoughts. Where’s Della?”</p><p>“Mom’s looking at the Cloudslayer. Something about needing chewed gum and duct tape,” Dewey said. <br/><br/>“I’ll go get her,” Launchpad said. “You kids hang out here.”</p><p>It took about twenty minutes for Della, Launchpad, and Bentina to walk into the kitchen. Scrooge hadn’t eaten very much, but it was enough to get himself together. “So, what’s the deal?” Della asked. “How’s Donald?”<br/><br/>Five pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. <br/><br/>“Huey, Louie. Do you know that your uncle used to go to therapy?” <br/><br/>They nodded. Dewey had filled them in about the whole ‘Mr. Jones’ situation a few hours after the fact. Huey did some research on the steps to get into therapy, because he wanted to help, but he knew the prices were exorbitant because Uncle Donald’s meager health insurance didn’t cover anything mental health - which was criminal, in his opinion. Uncle Donald had tried so hard to keep his struggles from them, but Huey’s hyperfocus led him down a rabbit hole of information of multigenerational struggles with mental illness. <br/><br/>Of course, he’d told his brothers what he’d found. After what had happened at Castle McDuck and in the Shadow War, they kept no secrets from each other - even if they were hard to bear, or if they now knew more than they probably should. <br/><br/>Scrooge saw the worry in their eyes, and the compassion too. “Donald… Is really struggling with his mental health. Duckburg General’s best psychologists are evaluating him to see what kind of support and treatment he needs.”</p><p>“So how long will he be gone?” Della asked. </p><p>“We aren’t sure yet, lass. It’ll depend on what Dr. Tan and her team say. She did mention to me that I could bring the kids for a short visit - do you want to see him?” he turned his attention to the kids.</p><p>The boys nodded; Webby turned to Bentina who said, “Of course you can go, dear. I’ll come as backup.”</p><hr/><p>This part of the hospital - a house away from the medical campus - was <em> colorful </em> . Vibrant parquet flooring complimented the purple walls covered by art; people chatted amongst themselves - some <em> happy </em>, even. It gave the kids hope. </p><p>“Donald,” the nurse escorting them knocked on the door. “Your family’s here.”</p><p>As soon as the door opened, the boys ran to the chair and climbed into his lap. Louie sniffled, burying his head into Donald’s shoulder. Donald squeezed them gently, heart tightening with regret. “I love you too, boys.” He then shifted slightly, loosening the arm around Huey and Dewey. “Come here, Webby.”<br/><br/>Despite the gravity of the situation, she beamed as she joined the gaggle on Donald’s lap. “I love you, Uncle Donald.”<br/><br/>He looked at her, eyes wide with a watery smile. “I love you too, Webby dear.”<br/><br/>The kids talked about their day, about Huey’s cooking - <em>listen, being in an actual kitchen has </em><b><em>changed my life</em></b> - and after a while, the chatter slowly faded into a comfortable silence. Dr. Tan came in, unable to stop herself from smiling at the sight. “Sorry, kids; I need to talk to your uncles for a little bit.” <br/><br/>They hugged Donald one last time before holding hands and walking out with Bentina. The door shut behind them and Dr. Tan sighed, sitting on the chair by the desk. “Well, I have <em>mostly</em> good news, along with some bad. What would the two of you like to hear first?”<br/><br/>“Bad news,” Donald sighed. <em>Always better to do that first</em>. </p><p>“You’re probably going to be here for at least a few days. The good news is, unlike other psychiatric facilities, we don’t isolate patients. The main stipulations we have on visitors are that minors can’t come in after seven in the evening, and if we feel a visitor is causing a patient distress, we are at liberty to ban them from visiting.”<br/><br/>Donald blinked. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” <br/><br/>Dr. Tan nodded. “There are blocks of time where visitors may have to wait - during group therapy or classes, as an example, or if the patient they’re coming to see is in an individual session or getting their vitals - but research shows that isolating mental health patients can actually reverse any progress they may be making.”</p><p>“Classes?” Scrooge asked. </p><p>“One of the pitfalls of psychiatric admission in the past has been the limitations put on patients. The boredom experienced caused their symptoms to worsen, and led to hostile conditions in facilities. We’re a newer facility, and we’ve opted into testing a new workshop model for certain aspects of therapeutic support. We - the board that founded this house, which I’m part of - believe that allowing patients to learn, to create, and to express themselves in workshops or classes will help them transition to being home and outpatient therapy.”<br/><br/>Dr. Tan turned to Donald. “Now, I have to ask you some hard questions that will determine the length of your stay.” <br/><br/>Scrooge tipped his hat and stood to leave when - <br/><br/>“Wait,” Donald’s voice was timid. “I…” <br/><br/>“You want your uncle to stay for this part of the evaluation?” <br/><br/><em> I trust him</em>, Donald wanted to say. Or, <em> he’ll know what to tell the kids and what to leave out</em>. Anything, really. Words wouldn’t come though, so he pleaded with his eyes. <br/><br/>“Alright, lad. I’ll stay,” Scrooge moved his chair closer to Donald’s bed. <br/><br/>“First,” Dr. Tan got out her pen and clipboard. “Do you feel safe returning home right now? Safe here meaning ‘you don’t think you’ll be a risk to yourself if discharged’.” <br/><br/>“I don’t feel safe in the <em> houseboat</em>,” Donald said. “And I’m not… I’m not ready to go to the mansion. Not yet. So I guess that’s a no.” <br/><br/>She made a note on the paper: <em> Family Counseling recommended - prioritize a joint session with Donald &amp; Mr. McDuck. </em> “Okay. Do you think you’ll attempt suicide again?” <br/><br/>“I don’t know!” Donald blurted. The raw truth of it knocked the wind from him. “I didn’t <em> plan </em> this, but it still happened. I’m not ready to die, but… I don’t know…” a squeeze of his shoulders took him out of his thoughts. Scrooge’s arm was around him - tight and comforting and familiar - and a few tears fell down his face. <br/><br/>Dr. Tan handed him a tissue. “It’s all right, Donald. This is a very emotional time.” She asked the rest of her questions, then grabbed her things. “I’ll have to go over your answers with my team and we will have an answer about the length of your stay tomorrow. I also want you to know that being admitted won’t put you at risk of losing your boys - they might be your nephews, Donald, but you raised them. They’re more yours than anyone else’s. Mr. McDuck has emergency custody, and nobody is going to call CPS on you for needing help. You held out by yourself for <em> ten years </em> ; and on top of that, you’ve faced years’ worth of compounded trauma in the space of a few months. You’ve done well; it’s <em>your</em> turn to get help.” <br/><br/>With that, she closed the door behind her. Donald curled into himself, head on his knees, and cried. Scrooge put down his cane and hugged Donald fully with both arms. That made the younger duck cry even more - they had hugged recently, sure, but not like this. This was different. <br/><br/>This was a hug for anxious children. <br/>This was a hug that made space for anger. <br/>This was a hug for <em> healing</em>. <br/><br/>Donald savored the warmth, the memories, the love he felt emanating from his uncle with everything he had. Despite everything, the man was a part of his inner strength. God, how he needed it. <br/><br/>He was glad to hold his nephew tightly, to give him the love he so obviously craved, but God… He wished it hadn’t come to this.  <br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>The kids were upstairs, relaxing in their rooms. Scrooge, Bentina, and Della were in the sitting room - the man with his tea; the housekeeper with her hot chocolate; and the pilot with a Pep. <br/><br/>“What really happened, Uncle Scrooge?” <br/><br/>He sighed. No point beating around the bush. “Donald attempted suicide.” <br/><br/>“<em>What</em>,” Della’s voice was low. Seething. “Why would he do that?” <br/><br/>“He’s had a rough go of things, lass.” <br/><br/>“What do you mean? He lives <em> here</em>, he has all he could want or need - “ <br/><br/>“He hasn’t been here for very long.” <br/><br/>For a moment, the world tilted off its axis. Della blinked, dumbfounded. Surely, Uncle Scrooge didn’t mean… No! <em>No, no, no</em>! That would never happen! “What are you <em> talking </em> about? We were still living with you when I took the Spear!” </p><p>“We had a fight,” Scrooge said. “Right after the transmission was cut and you were gone. He blamed me - rightfully so. The boys lost their mother, he lost his sister… I lost my daughter,” he sighed. “I won’t repeat what we said to each other, but suffice it to say, he took the boys and left. I lost him the same day.”<br/><br/>“Holy crap.” Della was stunned. “Did you reach out? Check in?” <br/><br/>Scrooge heard the unasked question. <em> Did you try to help him? </em> “I wish I would have, but no. All I did was approve his application for a dock at the marina. That houseboat is one he found cheap somewhere - some website for boat sellers, I think. The boys were born three days later, and that’s where they called home for the next ten years.” <br/><br/>Della took the tissue Bentina offered her and wiped her eyes. “What made him come back?” <br/><br/>“He needed a babysitter,” Bentina answered. “I answered the phone that day,” her voice was contemplative. “Donald was absolutely panicked - he was speaking so fast I wasn’t sure he was <em> breathing </em> . He said he had an interview, an <em> extremely well paying one</em>, and he couldn’t even afford to miss the opportunity. He had nobody else and he was desperate. I told him a fib, of sorts. I <em> schemed </em> , as Louie might call it. I told him Scrooge would watch the boys, of <em> course </em> he could bring them here. Then I refused to open the gate when he pulled up.” <br/><br/>Scrooge balked. “You <em> what</em>?” <br/><br/>“You heard me,” his housekeeper said easily. “You two needed that initial conversation.” <br/><br/>He winced, an odd sense of shame twisting his stomach. Then he smiled a little. “It was <em> so hard </em> to keep a straight face when the boys heard him call me ‘Uncle Scrooge’. They made such a ruckus! Dewey even rolled <em> on top of Donald’s car </em> ,” a chuckle broke out of him, easing some of the tension. <br/><br/>“So… The day I took the Spear was the end of you two being a team?” Della’s brows furrowed. "<em><strong>W</strong></em><b><em>hy did you let him leave</em> </b> !?” <br/><br/>“Lass, lower your voice - you’ll wake the kids - " <br/><b></b></p><p>"<em><strong>Y</strong></em><strong><em>ou’re</em></strong><b><em> telling me you let Donald raise my boys on a houseboat on the sketchiest docks in Calisota</em></b>!?” <br/><br/>“Della - "<br/><br/>“<b><em>And you didn’t even try to help him</em></b>!?” <br/><br/>“<em>Della</em>,” Scrooge hissed. “Ye’ve every right to be mad, but stop yellin’!”<br/><br/>“<b><em>How dare you</em></b>!?” Della screamed, and grabbed the nearest object to throw at her uncle! "<b><em>You traitor</em></b>! <b><em>You abandoned him</em></b>!”</p><p>Bentina couldn’t even hold her back; instead she stood between the two relatives as much as possible. It didn’t matter though; Della found books, coasters, even the Pep she’d been drinking, and threw it so that it <em>soaked</em> Scrooge. But that wasn’t enough. He’d let Donald <em>leave</em>, and he’d let Donald <em>take the boys</em>, this was <em>why she didn’t have custody, why she wasn’t really their mom </em>- and she swung at him! <br/><br/>Scrooge dodged, rolling under her fist. “Let’s go outside,” he growled. “I won’t have this foolishness in front of - “<br/><br/>“<b><em>Mom, stop</em></b>!” Dewey yelled. “Stop it! You’re scaring Louie!”<br/><br/>“I’m sorry, kids,” Scrooge stood. “Where’s - ?” <br/><br/>“Huey’s with Louie. We heard you yelling and we came down after making sure Louie had his sensory stuff,” Webby said softly. “Granny, are you okay?”<br/><br/>“I’m fine, dear; you two should go back upstairs.”<br/><br/>“No,” Dewey stomped his foot. “No. This isn’t okay, Mom! I get that you’re mad because you didn’t know - we didn’t know much about you or the Spear for <b><em>ten years</em></b> and that caused a big fight! So trust me, I get being mad that stuff was hidden from you! But attacking Uncle Scrooge isn’t okay! Uncle Donald was scared he’d lose <em>us</em> too!”<br/><br/>He took a few long, deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his beak.<br/><br/>“That’s why he didn’t come back,” Huey said as he walked, an arm wrapped around Louie, who had noise-muffling headphones on his head. “He thought he’d lost you, and… It was just the four of us for so long. Uncle Donald was all we had, and we were all he had. He sacrificed <b><em>everything</em></b> for us because that’s what he thought it took to keep us safe.”<br/><br/>Louie sniffled. “When we found out what happened to you, we were so angry. So much yelling, and so much <em>pain</em>,” he rubbed his eyes and looked at his uncle. “We blamed Uncle Scrooge just like you are right now. We - Mom - we said <em>so many horrible things</em>. It’s been a while but I… I…” he buried his head into Huey’s shoulder, crying.</p><p>“We still have nightmares about it. And it was so much like what you’re doing right now, except none of us tried to actually hit Uncle Scrooge,” Huey sighed. They had planned to <em> never </em> tell the adults about the Magica-laden horrors that plagued their dreams; the loss of Scrooge, the words they’d said… But it was necessary.</p><p>Mom <em> had </em>to understand. </p><p>They were all grieving. </p><p>Now their grief was compounded by Uncle Donald being away - his own pain and trauma nearly drowning him - and by their mother’s anger. </p><p>“Oh, <em> kids</em>,” Scrooge sighed, walking to the front of the stairs. “I should’ve realized it was still bothering you. After the Shadow War, I just assumed you were fine - I didn’t think you were still struggling with it. I’d love to hug you, but I’m covered in Pep.” <br/><br/>Louie ran down the stairs with open arms. “I can bathe,” he said simply. “I just…” <br/><br/>The other three soon joined the hug, knocking Scrooge to the ground. Della collapsed against the sofa, too spent to cry. <br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>Donald knew exhaustion when he saw it, and Scrooge looked <em>much</em> worse for the wear than he had yesterday. It wasn’t just the sleeplessness that rested under his eyes. It was the melancholy that seemed to radiate off him, and the way his posture changed. “What happened?” he asked softly, letting the man sit on his bed. <br/><br/>“I’m scared to tell you,” Scrooge took off his spectacles and laid an arm over his eyes. “I actually need to ask Dr. Tan if I <em>can</em> tell you. It’s not that I want to hide things, lad, but you’re here to put yourself first, and… Telling you about what happened last night could…” his voice started to trail off. “It… Worse…”<br/><br/>Donald looked over and his eyes widened. His poor uncle was so exhausted that he’d fallen asleep. Whatever had happened, it had been <em>rough</em>. It wasn’t his place to know - Scrooge was right, him knowing would probably make things harder - but he felt an increase of love and empathy for the man. He gently removed Scrooge’s spats, hat, spectacles, and cane, and threw a spare quilt over him. Donald made to go sit at his writing desk when - <br/><br/>Tears. They slowly rolled down Scrooge’s face in his sleep. It made Donald’s heart ache; he knew that sorrow, for it was damn near buried in the marrow of his soul. He moved Scrooge carefully and put the old man’s head against his heart, rubbing his back. This was something Scrooge had done with him often, especially after his parents had died; the familiar thumps of a heart who loved him brought comfort in an otherwise fitful sleep. <br/><br/>Dr. Tan came in quietly, tilting her head at what she saw. <br/><br/>“He didn’t get any sleep last night,” Donald whispered. “I don’t know what happened - he doesn’t want to tell me and risk a relapse or something - but he was exhausted. And… When I was little, he used to do this for me. Please don’t get him in trouble; I don’t know any details, I just… Wanted him to feel safe.”<br/><br/>She shook her head. “It’s very sweet,” she chirped, “Are you okay with your uncle being here for our daily session?”<br/><br/>“Yeah,” Donald smiled. “Let’s start.” <br/><br/>“First - based on the evaluation I gave you yesterday, it looks like you’ll need to be here for about another week. At the five-day mark, we will give you another evaluation and go from there. We will also start you on a medication; I see here that you’ve been prescribed antidepressants and several other medication types in the past, but they lose their effectiveness after a short time… I recommend an antipsychotic-class medication. These medications can help where other types tend to lose their ‘oomph’, so to speak, and they can help with the specific issues you have. Does that sound good?”<br/><br/>“Sounds great,” relief flooded through him.<br/><br/>“Now, time for your daily evaluation. On a scale of one to ten, how suicidal are you right now?”<br/><br/>Donald thought about it for a moment. “Where does ‘I feel hopeless and worthless, and <em>kind of</em> feel like disappearing’ fall on the scale?”<br/><br/>“That’s about a five,” Dr. Tan made a note. “How’s your appetite?”<br/><br/>“It’s slowly coming back - I was actually thinking about going to the kitchen to make some food after we’re done, if I’m allowed.”<br/><br/>“Good! And yes, you’re allowed; as long as you don’t leave the house without permission or go into other people’s rooms, you’re able to move around when you’re not in sessions or classes. You agreed to medication, we’ve done this… Oh, yes. How’s your anxiety?”<br/><br/>“Surprisingly not very high. This is very calming,” Donald chuckled, still rubbing Scrooge’s back. “Physical touch is one of my love languages, and I know it’s weird to be in my thirties and love family cuddles, but… Since my parents died, and everything with Della and the boys… Also I think part of it’s the pressure? My youngest, Louie, is autistic and he’s similar about touch and feeling weight on him. He actually wears a hoodie basically year-round because of it. Could be that I’m autistic too, or just really like pressure. It’s comforting.”<br/><br/>Scrooge moved against him slightly, then settled again.<br/><br/>“We can certainly get you a weighted blanket,” Dr. Tan nodded, writing the recommendation. “Anything else you’d like to discuss?”<br/><br/>Donald wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t feel so <em>safe</em>. “I’m not sure I want Della to visit - “<br/><br/>As soon as her name was in the air, Scrooge tensed against him. <em>Ah.</em> <em>That explains a few things</em>. Just like a minute ago though, the man settled against Donald once more.<br/><br/>“ - She’s very high energy and…” Bossy? Demanding? Loud? “...Stubborn about things,” he went with after a moment. “I love her to bits, I really do, but I just don’t think I’m ready to see her.”<br/><br/>“I understand that; I feel like that about my own siblings even in the best circumstances,” Dr. Tan chuckled. “Anything else before I go?”<br/><br/>“Do I get to pick my classes and stuff?”<br/><br/>Dr. Tan flipped through some paperwork on her board. “There might be some flexibility on that for you; I’ll have to talk to the workshop coordinators and check. Generally we do only recommend that you pick two, <em>maybe</em> three classes for the entire week. They’re not every day because that would be too stressful for the patients. I’ll get you the list after you get your afternoon vitals taken,” she walked to the door. “Oh, and Donald?”<br/><br/>“Yes?”<br/><br/>The oriole glanced at the two ducks on the bed, eyes crinkling when she saw the slight blush on the older one’s feathers. “It may not be my place to say this, but I feel it needs to be said. I’m not a parent, and even <em>I</em> can see it - Mr. McDuck loves you <em>very </em>much. We’ve all noticed it in the way he shows up, in how he advocates for you. He may never replace your parents, but he’s very much like a father.”<br/><br/>Donald gaped at her as she closed the door. A few minutes later, Scrooge fully woke up, coughing out an apology for falling asleep in such an undignified manner, causing trouble for his nephew. </p><hr/><p>The smell of something <em> amazing </em> floated through the house. All four kids and Bentina were in the kitchen, covered in flour and laughing. Food was laid on the dining room table, and the oven was still hot. “Did ye decide to throw a sack of flour on my counters for fun?” Scrooge asked as he walked into the kitchen. <br/><br/>It was a <em> wreck </em> . Of course they had fun! <br/><br/>“We - we,” Huey couldn’t stop the amused snort that came out of him, “We tried to make some recipes from Uncle Donald’s family cookbooks and we screwed everything up, but it’s okay because we can clean it!” <br/><br/>Louie - who usually wasn’t into this sort of thing at all - was giggling too. “We also tried to, uh, have a cooking tournament and it went sideways!” <br/><br/>“You’ll have to fill me in while we eat,” he smiled, ruffling their hair. “Donald’s doing really well today; I can take you all to see him later, if you want. His doctor will call me when he’s available to have more visitors. But you lot need to clean up.” <br/><br/>“Yay!” four shouts went up as the kids scrambled for the showers - “I call the master bath!” Louie yelled; the other three didn’t fight him on it. Not fighting about things was a nice change of pace. <br/><br/>Bentina chuckled as she started wiping down the counters and putting dishes in the dishwasher. “They stress-cooked, with varying levels of success. Lots of fun was had. How was your visit?” <br/><br/>Scrooge beamed. “It was grand; I’ll tell you about it during our nightcap chat.” <br/><br/>“Della’s been with Penumbra for most of the day. Feeling a bit… Foolish after last night,” she muttered. “I think we need to get her into therapy.” <br/><br/>“I was already planning on it,” he promised. “And the kids too. Dr. Tan gave me some references that I’ll be calling before my meetings tomorrow.”</p>
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